


The Other Side: Part Twenty Five

by PiscesPenName



Series: The Other Side Series [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dean is a Sweetheart, F/M, Nudity, Sex, Strip Tease, Vaginismus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesPenName/pseuds/PiscesPenName
Summary: Dean and Carrie talk and a little something else...





	The Other Side: Part Twenty Five

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Domino_Darkwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domino_Darkwolf/gifts).



 

 

Carrie watched Dean stumble into the kitchen. He was trying to cover his discomfort but he was moving gingerly and she realized he was sore. She felt a stab of concern that she'd hurt him. 

"Are you okay?" she asked him, feeling a little weird that their situations were reversed. 

 

"I think I need a Tylenol," he replied with a wince. 

 

"Okay." She moved to grab some from the cupboard and tossed the bottle to him. He caught it without effort and she poured him a mug of soda. He took three Tylenol and washed them down in a few gulps. 

 

Her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I know I did it correctly...I'm not sure why you're hurting so much."

 

"The headache is from bawling like a 4 year old," he responded gruffly.

 

"But you're sore. I can tell by how you're moving."

 

"I make you sore too." Dean leaned his hand against the countertop. "Like all the time. Don't worry about it."

 

She reached over to touch his back. He was tight, coiled. "Breathe."

 

"I'm breathing or I'd be dead."

 

"Deep..." she instructed, "deep breath." 

 

He humored her. 

 

"Let it out slowly... Did it hurt that badly when we were doing it?"

 

He seemed a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning but responded. "Well didn't feel good going in but nah...I came so hard I almost blacked out." He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms.  "I don't even get that." 

 

"Get what?"

 

"Like how it's that freaking intense. Both times I've almost felt like I was gonna pass out." 

 

Carrie cocked her head. "Well I'm up in you feeling the actual prostate gland, hun."

 

He didn't say anything and she wasn't even sure how much he knew about it. 

 

"That contains your ejaculatory fluid," Carrie explained.

 

He winced. "Can you make it sound more clinical and weird?"

 

"Probably." She smirked. 

 

"Don't," he responded, downing the rest of the soda with a carbonated burp. 

 

"That was so sexy."

 

He flashed her a wide smile.  

 

"What's it feel like?" she asked, leaning back against the counter.

 

"Like you have your hand in my ass," he responded dismissively. 

 

"Oh for real." 

 

He shrugged. "It hurts at first. Like its really uncomfortable and my muscles lock up. And then when you hit that nerve," he closed his eyes. "God its like...it's like you've got the base of me from the inside and I just...everything narrows to that and I can't control anything. I'm shaking and I can't even move. Like everything locks up. And then when I come, it's waves of it and it's longer and it's over my whole body. It almost..." he wrinked his nose. "It almost hurts."

 

"That was actually a pretty sexy monologue in that voice of yours until you got to the it hurts part."

 

"It's so strong it kinda does hurt." He smirked at her. "I'm not used to hurt bein wrapped up in sex." He looked naughty. "Unless she bites me." 

 

"I sure am," she replied. "I kinda wonder what it feels like to not be in some kind of discomfort when we're having sex."

 

She saw his expression fall and his shoulders went guilty and tight.  

 

"What?" she asked. 

 

He shrugged and turned away. "I'm sorry you can't have that."

 

"It's okay."

 

"It's kinda not though. I mean, it's the only thing that doesn't suck about being an adult besides drinking. And driving."

 

"Hey," she said, taking his arm. "It's not like I don't enjoy it."

 

"I know, sweetheart."

 

"Dean, what's bothering you this trip? Come on, tell me."

 

"Carrie. Just leave it." He looked at her and furrowed his brow. "Please."

 

She pushed aside her frustrations, kind of knew pumping for information was futile, but she wanted to know what was going on so badly. 

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist and he sighed and hugged her back, warm and solid. Nothing made her feel as safe as Dean did when he held her. It was an all over sort of safety, like a warm blanket draped over her, like being curled on a couch with a cup of hot chocolate. Safe. 

 

As if he was reading her thoughts he hummed low in his throat. "This is nice."

 

"Yeah." She said leaning into his chest, her voice muffled. "It is."

 

She ran her hands up the defined musculature of his back and he curled over her, holding tight. She could hear the slow thump of his heart and smell that wonderful smell that was entirely Dean...outdoors and leather and old spice. 

 

They held the hug for a minute before he broke away and cleared his throat. 

 

"Want me to hang longer? I've got another day or so."

 

She smiled. "I can switch shifts with someone at the hospital." 

 

He cocked his head. "Hey. Wanna drive out to our cabin? Have a little dirty weekend."

 

She grinned at him. "Yes."

 

* * *

 

Driving in the Impala was a rush just hearing the engine purr. Dean had a casual way of leaning his arm on the window, his left leg stretched out, his right doing the work. His hand casually on the wheel. Like he'd ridden a million miles in her. 

 

She smelled like old car. Leather and grease. Her seat was expansive and so comfortable it'd be easy to fall asleep. She looked out the window the first half of the journey and then slid over and snuggled up next to Dean for the second half. 

 

"You love this car." She said. 

 

Dean smiled contentedly. "Oh yeah I do. She's my baby."

 

He told her a lot that Carrie didn't understand. Things like specs and the type of engine she had. The power of her. 

 

Carrie just liked the sound of his voice and how happy he was when he spoke about it. 

 

His cell rang in his pocket and Dean raised an eyebrow and picked it up. "Bitch," he answered. 

 

She could hear the timbre of another man on the phone. Knew it was Sam without being told. 

 

"Yeah, well, I'm staying in New York for a few more days." 

 

He cocked an eyebrow again. "Sure Sam, you do 'research'. I'll catch you later."

 

He hung up the phone and shook his head but his face was fond. "I think my Sammy has a chick on the sly."

 

"On the sly from what?"

 

"From me."

 

"Why wouldn't he tell you?"

 

Dean shrugged. "He will when he's good and ready. We don't talk about that stuff much."

 

"Why not?" 

 

Dean shrugged. "It's none of my business who my brother wants to bang."

 

He looked over his shoulder as he switched lanes. "I think it's it's a guy code. Do your own thing."

 

Carrie studied his profile. "What makes you think he's got a girl."

 

"He's not crawling up my ass when I'm out here for one thing. He spends a LOT of time in Michigan. Every time we're near there he's got a delay or a trip to do. What the hell is in Michigan besides lakes and snow?"

 

She laughed. "I don't know."

 

"Can't play a player, sweetheart."

 

"Does he know about me?" She tried to keep the hope out of her voice. 

 

He shrugged. "He's gotta know I'm out in New York for a reason."

 

Her hopes went down a notch. "Yeah. Guys are so weird. If it were my sister we'd know everything about each other's business." 

 

He snorted. "Chicks don't know how to keep shit to themselves."

 

"Why would we?"

 

He gave her a sly look that melted her loins. "Cause what I do with you is no one else's business, baby," he said in his lowest register bed room voice. 

 

They parked her out at the edge of the woods and started the hike out to the cabin. 

 

It was sunset and almost warm enough not to need a jacket. They shuffled through the carpet of leaves, holding hands, stopping to kiss now and again.

 

Dean's hands were bold, wandering everywhere, up under her shirt, down the back of her jeans. 

 

They made it into the cabin without losing any clothes and stopped to look. They hadn't been here in a bit and it had the musty smell of being shut up too long.  

 

Carrie lit a lamp and Dean went outside to knock open a stuck window. The air when it came in was sweet and pure and held the notes of spring. 

 

She loved it here. Not just the place, but the memories of it, and she loved how Dean had burned himself into them. As she went to rearrange the pillows, she caught the faint musk of his cologne on them even after all this time. Carrie smiled and leaned over to rearrange the unzipped sleeping bags. 

 

She only heard a second of his booted footstep on the hardwood before Dean had hold of her and tackled her over into the mattress. She hit the softness and landed on her belly with a shrieking laugh. "Dean!!"

 

His arms circled around her and his weight locked her down and she heard his voice in her ear, his breath warm as he spoke. "The tiger has pounced." 

 

She wrestled with him for a second and he buried his nose in the back of her hair, totally unfazed by her struggle. 

 

"Hey!" she admonished. 

 

He pushed his hip playfully up against her ass, grinding against her. She could feel that he already had illicit ideas in mind. 

 

"Dean. This is so not fair."

 

He let her go and started to pull himself up on all fours and she twisted and kicked him off balance with her knee. He let out a woof and flopped off of her. She hit him with a pillow and pounced on top of him. 

 

His grin was delighted as she straddled him and tried to pin his arms above his head. "Oh she's got some fight." He twisted out of her wrist hold. "Bad. Girl." 

 

"No..." she put her knee against his chest. His dimpled smile made her heart clench. They were both panting. And then he knocked her off. She fell with a screech and he was over her again on all fours, his pendant hanging loose and swinging between them. 

 

She could feel his warm breath across her face. They locked eyes. "God," he whispered. "I never wanna stop being inside you."

 

The tone of his voice made her stomach coil with a delighted heat. She reached up and put her hands on his chest. "I daydream about you all the time."

 

His eyes crinkled. "Yeah?"

 

"I can't..." her voice was a little small. She swallowed. 

 

"What?" He asked.

 

"I'm still sore. I can't right now. Not yet."

 

He sank his weight down on her. "I actually probably haven't had time to reload."

 

"Really? Usually you're up for it right away."

 

"Yeah." He moved his hip into her. "The freaking prostate thing is different. Drains me."

 

They held eye contact for a few moments. Carrie could see his intellect in them. He was smarter than he liked to let on. 

 

She reached up to touch the side of his face almost reverently. He turned his head to graze a kiss across her wrist. 

 

"I love you," she told him. A few expressions chased across his features. Thankfulness, fondness, then sorrow.

 

"Yeah, me too." He planted a kiss on her forehead and rolled off of her, settled next to her on the mattress. Carrie snuggled up to his chest. 

 

"Do you know how handsome you are?" She asked, watching his jawline. 

 

"I know I'm not ugly." He replied. 

 

"You're stunning."

 

His plush lip turned up at the corner. "I don't believe it. Better tell me again."

 

She planted a kiss along his jawline, could feel just the slightest trace of stubble there, smell his skin.  

 

He was exquisite. "You're so handsome. Is your brother this good looking? I remember John. I know your Daddy wasn't hard on the eyes either."

 

Dean's eyes grew a little wistful at the mention of his father. "Sam's an ugly Sasquatch."

 

She snorted. "That's gotta be bullshit."

 

"The kid's okay in that gangly overgrown puppy way, I guess."

 

He fished in his pocket for his cell and scrolled through the pictures. He flashed her one of himself and his arm around another very tall man. 

 

"That's Sam?" She asked softly. 

 

"Yes."

 

"He only looks like a Calvin Klein model. Not handsome at all...you lying shit."

 

Dean smirked. "He's a big pain in the ass to me."

 

"You don't look alike at all. You look like your Dad."

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I do?"

 

"Yeah. The coloring is all wrong. But your nose. Your mouth." She traced her fingers over those plump lips. "The cheekbones."

 

"I miss him." Dean told her.

 

"You two get along well?"

 

"Yeah." He sighed. "Yeah we did." He went quiet. 

 

"What?" 

 

"Nothin. Don't want to talk about it."

 

She slipped her hand under his shirt and rubbed his chest in a gentle circle. 

 

"Your hands are cold," he grumbled. 

 

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. Let me warm them up." She slid her hand down quickly under his belt and waistband and grasped him. 

 

He yelped and shuddered. "Hey!"

 

"What?" Carrie asked innocently, her hand in his underwear, marveling how quickly he went from flaccid to partly erect. 

 

"That's col...uh." Dean's protest died on a moan and an unconscious roll of his hips into her hand. "Fuck." He gave a shiver. 

 

"I thought you didn't reload yet," she teased. 

 

"I don't think I have but...oh god." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Carrie..." he threw his arms around her and squeezed her to him. 

 

She watched his cheeks flush and got a little illicit thrill from him surrendering to her despite his better judgment. 

 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, kissing the tendon of his neck. "You want me to stop?" 

 

He grunted and buried his head in the pillow, bucking into her again. She squeezed, feeling him harden a little more. 

 

His hands went to his belt and started to fumble heatedly on the buckle. 

 

"Hey," she told him. "Relax. Pretend we're in high school."

 

"I was fucking in high school," he whispered. "A lot." 

 

"Well I was a good girl," she told him, biting at his neck again. She slipped her hand out and he looked betrayed. 

 

"Teasin'," he whispered. "You're teasing."

 

"It builds anticipation."

 

"And blue balls."

 

Carrie studied his face. "Do you need me to finish you off?"

 

He sucked a deep breath and shook his head. "Probably can't get there right now anyway." He flopped his head back down on the pillow and exhaled slowly. 

 

She circled her hand lazily over his chest. "I'm sorry...it just feels good."

 

"To torment me?" he asked. 

 

She laughed. "I was going to say to build anticipation. But torment can be used as well."

 

"That's the thing with girls. They like teasing. Like that's the main event." He replied, he put his hand over the back of hers, stilling it. "Guys, we just wanna dive right in."

 

"You don't like getting me riled up?"

 

"Oh yes." He said, squeezing her hand. "That's hotter than hell. And I like it when you rile me. I just want...to get off before we're done."

 

"Spoiled." 

 

He smirked a little. 

 

"So lots of sex in high school, huh?"

 

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yep."

 

"You ever deflower anybody but me?"

 

He flashed her his teeth. "Nah. Girls I was with...they're..." he paused. "The kinda girl you could talk into going all the way in the back of your car on a Friday night."

 

"Sluts."

 

"I prefer adventurous."

 

"Sluts," Carrie ribbed again.

 

"Whatever you wanna call em. They're a lot of fun."

 

"I bet they are." 

 

Dean snorted. "You chicks go hard on each other."

 

She paused, thought about it. "You're not wrong. I guess society makes it that way."

He squeezed her hand again, rubbed his thumb against her palm, lost in thought. 

"Does it feel weird to hook up with someone you don't know?"

"Hmmm?" He cocked an eyebrow again.

"Does it feel weird to be with someone new? Do you get nervous?"

He opened his mouth and shut it. 

He rolled over to look at her. "What's with the 20 questions?"

"Well we can't fuck so that leaves...talking?" She smiled. "I'm just curious."

"You plannin' on hooking up with someone?" He tossed it as a joke. But there was truth there.

"No."

He winced. "Come on Care, you don't wanna hear about me bein with other women. It's weird."

"I don't want specifics...just..." She shrugged and looked at him imploringly. 

"It's exciting," he told her. "Sometimes it's awkward, sometimes it's freaking awesome. Depends on the encounter and how drunk I am."

 

"What's that like versus being with someone you know?"

 

He looked her up and down and gave a half shrug. "It's different."

 

"No shit."

 

"I don't want to talk about this."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because I'm gonna say something wrong and then you're going to get pissed off at me."

 

"Jesus, Dean. Loosen up."

 

He snorted.  "Can we just leave it that I like coming back to you?"

 

"But why?"

 

" 'cause you know me."

 

She wasn't going to get anywhere with him. She sighed in resignation. "Okay."

 

He paused and she could see his mind working. "I come back to you and it's like slipping behind the wheel of my baby. I know your curves and your sounds, how you handle. It's familiar." He touched her chin. "If there was anything I could change about you it's that you're so damn insecure. I'm here, sweetheart."

 

She felt herself flush and dropped her gaze, pondering the wrinkled sleeping bag underneath them, the way the light played off the creases. 

 

"You are so sexy," he whispered. 

 

She flushed again. Dean's hand traced her shoulder and he ghosted his fingers down her arm. "Let me see you, baby."

 

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "What do you mean?"

 

He hand slipped down to the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted it, revealing her skin in inches. 

 

"Dean," she said. "We both need to take it easy."

 

"I just wanna look at you," he told her darkly. "It's like watching the best skin flick ever."

 

He inched it up farther and then his thumb slid under her bra. She gasped, arching her back. Dean gave her bra a nudge upward and her breasts fell heavily beneath the fabric. His eyes roamed her hungrily. Almost the way a predator would and then he blinked and she saw her sweet soft Dean return. 

 

"God," he whispered, pulling her shirt up over her head and unclipping her bra deftly. Carrie sat up for a second to help him and let her bra straps fall over her shoulders. 

 

Dean reverently touched the smoothness of her skin with the back of his knuckles. 

 

"Stand up and take it off for me." His voice was dark and honeyed. 

 

She felt herself blush again but stood up and looked down awkwardly at him, arms crossed over her bare chest. "I don't know what to do."

 

"Unsnap your jeans." She reached down with slightly shaky hands and unbuttoned her fly.

 

"Pull down the zipper." She slid it down and pushed the fabric off her hips. The denim pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it. 

 

Deans eyes traced her hips and bared legs. "Take off your panties."

 

Her breath came quicker as she slipped her panties off and kicked them aside. 

 

"Turn around," he told her. 

 

Carrie started to turn. 

 

"Slowly." He purred. "Make it a show for me, baby."

 

Carrie slowly turned until he had her back to him. She looked over her shoulder, felt her blonde mane of hair move over her back as she did. 

 

Dean was still lying down, although he'd rolled to his side and his eyes were glued on her. Carrie slowly slid her hands down her legs and bent over for him. She heard a sound like the breath was being knocked out of his chest. She stretched back up languorously and laced her hands behind her head as she turned back around.

 

Dean swallowed tightly. "Jesus." He whispered.

 

Carrie put her hands on her own breasts and squeezed them. He growled in the back of his throat. "Okay. I've got this visual burned in my head forever."

 

She smiled at him. "Yeah?"

 

"Oh yeah."


End file.
